Light Switch Phase

What is it with us
That makes others think
An electrician should
Come by to install a switch
To make the on-again,
off-again thing that much easier?

What do I yell at you today?
Over which minor detail?
In basso profundo you
Beat me to the crescendo.
Over what little thing,
I cannot tell,
And will not recall

Tonight,

When you lie spent
And softened,
Yielding to my touch
As I was to yours
Just thawing to goo
Like frozen chocolate
On a hungry red tongue
Of flame across my navel.

The fires that burn hot
Often scorch too much.
The electricity
That galvanizes our bodies
Into this ecstatic dance
Often sends us into these
Paroxysms of headbanger rage.
The passions that make us so good
At making the beast with two backs
Often translate into heated debate
And flying saucers without cups.

Short circuits tend to do this
To us, cut the connection
After the intermittent sizzle
And shriek of countercurrents
Colliding, fission leading
Inevitably to fusion
of lips and hips
And other wet, salty bits.

Ah, but installing the switch
Would take all the fun out of this
Dangerous dance of daggers
That makes us feel so alive
In our bruised and battered,
Electrocuted and brainfried,
Lighting and thunder way.

I say
Let the man wait
On the other side
Of that locked door
And let's settle this
In the only way we know how:

Bang on the damned circuit
Until we get through
Break through
Come through,
Oh, yes,
Come
Through

To the sibilant silence,
The profound peace,
The sweet spent sublimeness,
Of me and you, sweaty and salty,
In a tangle of untamed sheets
And limbs a-pretzel,
And sighs of lassitude,
And hard-won breath
That cleans out our lies.

We don't always say it
But percussive maintenance
Is often the best way to go.